Oliver or Cake
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: lemon-esque: “Are you seriously trying to tell me I appeal to you less than cake?”
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Comment: This is me point-blank determined to write something feel-good. Here we go.**

**Any second...**

**Inspiration will come...**

**Yep...soooooooon.....**

**I've got it! Chocolate cake!**

* * *

She kept her eyes shut. Well, this was ridiculous. Did she even want to know what time it was? Probably not.

She tried to push the thought away, to ignore it, but it wouldn't subside. She had been craving chocolate cake for a week, and now she had actually had a _dream_ about it, leaving her with the essence of it in her mouth, tantalizing her. She could almost..._almost_ taste it.

She cautiously opened one eye to squint at the clock.

2:00 A.M.

Two in the morning, and all she could think about was chocolate cake. It was absurd, but she knew there was no getting back to sleep.

Oliver was still there, his arm wrapped around her waist possessively, deep in sleep, undisturbed by inexplicable cravings. With excessive caution and deliberately slow movements, she gently slid out from under his hold. The moment the last of their skin separated, he grumbled in his sleep, hand grasping blindly beside him. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would wake. She wasn't entirely sure _why_ he was there...he'd never spent the night before. It kept things from getting too complicated. They had made a silent agreement that what they were doing--whatever that was--shouldn't get complicated. Neither of them were ready for a relationship, Oliver because he was convinced that anyone remotely connected with the Green Arrow was going to get hurt one way or another, Chloe because she was still trying to repair the mutilated mess that had once been her heart.

He didn't wake, merely grumbled again, frowning slightly, and rolled over, tucking his arm beneath a pillow.

Some small part of her--probably the hungry part--wished he weren't there. It was confusing, and if he weren't there, well she wouldn't have to be so quiet and discreet about this. She scooted around the room, fishing out a cotton nightgown from a drawer, unable to bring herself to put on anything less comfy. Quietly, she shuffled out of the room and closing the door behind her without a sound, hoping that was enough to be sure Oliver would be undisturbed.

She flicked on the lights and grimaced, blinking blindly until her eyes adjusted. Her stomach rumbled.

"Oh, shut up," she told it. "You're getting your way."

She shuffled over to the computer, which was still running. Oliver had interrupted her work rather unexpectedly earlier that evening. She punched "chocolate cake recipes" into the search engine and skimmed over them. Chloe didn't really bake...ever. But she wanted really good cake, even though she knew she had a box or two of cake mix in her pantry, purely because it was Martha Kent law.

_Always keep cake mix handy. Someone's birthday will come up unexpectedly or your son will suddenly tell you he needs thirty cupcakes for class tomorrow morning or some other unexpected circumstance demanding cake will pop up. Just accept it._

She grinned to herself, remembering all the handy tips Mrs. Kent had given to her when she moved into her first apartment.

_Keep fresh flowers around. No matter how bad your day was, you'll be glad to see them._

_Have emergency numbers listed somewhere handy._

_Always make enough food for two. You might have company you weren't planning on, and if not, you can have the leftovers later._

The list of Martha-isms went on. When Chloe stumbled across a recipe that was really simple, and actually called for cake mix. Essentially the recipe doctored it up. It sounded simple enough. She could do this, right?

Of course she could. She was Watchtower. She was not going to be defeated by a ridiculous oven.

She had mixed together the ingredients, stuck the cake pan and batter in the oven, and then the exhaustion started catching up with her. Her body found itself without anything immediate to do, and so it decided to suddenly remind her of the time. Wearily, she leaned her head on her hands, almost ready to fall asleep on the counter.

_It was your idea_, she told it ruefully.

"Chloe? What the hell?"

Chloe gasped and clutched her heart. She spun around on the barstool. Oliver was standing in the doorway, a glorified, bed-ruffled mess in only his boxers.

He looked around, taking in the mixing bowl with cake batter still clinging to the sides along with the rest of the cooking supplies.

He gave her a humorous look. "Is this typical nightly behavior for you?"

She made a face at him, stifling a giggle. "I wanted cake," she said childishly.

"At 2:30 in the morning?" His voice was incredulous and he yawned, looking at her like she was crazy.

"2:00 in the morning, actually. I only just got it in the oven," she grinned, about to rest her head back on her folded arms sleepily. Her eyes started to drift closed.

He raised an eyebrow at her then a shocked look passed over his face. "Oh my god, are you pregnant?"

Chloe's head snapped up, looking at him wildly. "No! Of course not!"

He looked mildly relieved, but also more confused. "Sorry. This seems like pregnant-woman behavior though."

She giggled at him. "No. Pregnant-woman behavior would involve me waking _you_ to bake a chocolate cake _for me_."

He shook his head, laughing.

"Come back to bed," he whined, the corners of his mouth fighting a grin, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her.

"Noooo," she whined back. "Caaaaake."

He chuckled. "It is ridiculously early, Sidekick."

"Yes it is," she agreed, muttering darkly, but adding with determination, "and I am _getting_ that cake."

His lips started kissing her neck provocatively. "Forget the cake," he said.

"No," she said stubbornly, trying not to groan as his hands slid over her stomach.

"Yes," he argued. His lips met the strap of her nightgown. "I seem to remember you wearing less clothing previously," he grumbled against her shoulder, slipping the strap off with coarse fingers.

"Your memory serves you well," she teased him, involuntarily dropping her head to the side for him, exhaustion sinking in more heavily over her.

He picked her up and started removing her pajamas, and suddenly she became much more awake, her thighs awakening to the feel of the back of his hands grazing her breasts.

She caught her breath and unthinkingly pressed against him in encouragement. He tried to kiss her, but she turned her head to look at the oven.

"Stop trying to seduce me," she commanded unimpressively as his lips found her ear instead, teeth delicately grazing the shell of it.

He ignored her, hands running over her thighs.

"I want my cake," she moaned longingly.

He chuckled, grabbing her hips more roughly to pull her against him. "Are you seriously trying to tell me I appeal to you less than cake?" he asked her, smirking when her eyes nearly rolled back in her head in reaction to how hard he was. "Come back to bed," he said for the second time, more seductively now, the words brushing against her lips, which were a mere breath from his.

"Yes and no," she responded.

He laughed and dragged her off to the bedroom. "We'll see about that." Within seconds she felt herself growing hot and wet for him, all thoughts of cake fleeing from her mind instantly when she felt a finger slide along her core.

Chloe's hips bucked erotically in response and Oliver gave her a searing kiss.

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she managed to ask as her hands wrapped around his neck.

He didn't answer, but slipped a finger inside of her, officially eliminating coherent thought from her brain.

Oliver himself did his best not to think about that question as he made love to her. He had no idea what he was doing there. He wasn't certain he'd made a conscious decision to stay the night. He just somehow knew in the back of his mind that every time they had sex, it got harder and harder to leave her. He'd finally reached that point where he simply didn't want to go home. He wanted to hold her and smell her and wake up to see her, not wake up _wanting_ to see her. Chloe was becoming a drug to him. Every time he walked away from her--for any reason--he found himself wanting to turn right back around and see her again.

He knew he'd reached for her in the night and she hadn't been there and it had bothered him. The determination to find her wherever she was buried in the sheets had slowly brought a return of his senses, enough to make him aware that she was _not_ in the bed, and he could hear sounds coming from the kitchen.

So he'd gone to find her and discovered yet another facet of Chloe: sleep-deprived, appetite-driven Chloe. She looked so adorable, half-asleep, stubbornly determined to get what she wanted, however ridiculous it might be. He wanted to hold her again, to see how this new side of Chloe liked to be touched and kissed and held.

Her climax triggered his own and he fought not to immediately collapse on top of her. He pushed her hair back and kissed her throat. He whispered her name against her skin and closed his eyes as her hands ran tenderly over his back. He shuddered at the delicate touch. Chloe was such a gentle person. With a sigh he rolled over and pulled her on top of him, wrapping his arms around her warmly. She snuggled into his chest happily, and her eyes fluttered closed, and they fell asleep again.

An hour later, Chloe frowned deeply in her sleep, something once again dragging her unkindly to consciousness. She wasn't sure what it was until slowly the sound of an alarm going off seeped into her senses. Her eyes flew open as the smell of something burning assaulted her nostrils.

"The cake!" she exclaimed, nearly knocking Oliver out of bed as she scrambled out of the room, grabbing his shirt from the floor as she went and throwing it over her head.

Oliver found her on the floor of the kitchen, staring defeatedly at a blackened cake, now only smoking on the floor in front of her.

He tried very hard not to laugh.

He failed.

She glowered at him. "I hate you," she said grumpily.

Then they both heard something. A strange gurgling noise reached his ears and they both looked at her stomach. He burst into earnest laughter.

"Hate you!" she emphasized again, throwing an oven mitt at him.

He ducked it just in time before walking over to remove the cake pan from the floor, grabbing it with the pot holder it was resting on. He set it in the sink and looked down at her, eyes dancing in laughter.

She glared right back. "_Hate_," she repeated once more.

He chuckled and bent over to scoop her up. "You do not," he said, kissing her and rubbing his nose against hers teasingly.

"Yes, yes, I do."

"Tomorrow I will ensure that you get cake. Really good cake," he clarified.

She met his eyes sourly. "Promise?"

He smirked, forehead pressed to hers as he carried her back to the bedroom. "Promise."

She pressed her lips together, attempting not to look too pleased. "You do realize this is entirely your fault, don't you?"

"I fail to see how. You were the one who tried to offend me by telling me that chocolate cake is sexier than I am," he joked, placing her on the bed.

"That," she said, kissing him hotly, "is because it is. I'm sorry, but there's just no comparison." She giggled at the look on his face. Then, slowly the expression changed as questions started surging through her mind again. "Ollie, why _are_ you here again?" she repeated her question, hoping it wouldn't kill the mood.

He didn't answer at first again, and she was about to repeat the question when she found herself being pulled against his chest so he could wrap his arms around her. "Just wanted to be," he said.

"Mmmm," she sighed pleasantly, feeling very comfortable fitted against him the way she was.

He hesitated before asking. "Would you prefer I didn't in the future?"

He could hear the frown in her voice. "You can stay whenever you want," she said.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. "Good."


	2. Chapter 2

--2--

"Sidekick."

Pause.

"_Sidekick."_

Oliver nudged her again, a playful look in his eyes. It was barely morning, the sun only just streaming through the window, and he knew that after the previous night, earlier riser or not, there was no way she was going to want to get up this early.

He wondered vaguely whether she _were _an early riser or a late sleeper. Something else to find out when the opportunity arose, he told himself.

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, now.

"Sidekick."

This time Chloe at least reacted, squirming slightly, burying her head deeper into her pillow at his breath tickling her ear.

He smirked, repeating the attempt with more volume.

Her breathing changed and he knew she'd woken, even though her eyes remained carefully shut. A small moan escaped her lips.

"Chloe, come on. Get up. We have to get going."

"What are you talking about?" she grumbled almost incoherently.

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" he asked her.

"Exactly what I said," she remarked, eyes still closed. She turned her face into the pillow.

"We have a flight to catch, you absurd woman."

"What?" her head lifted from the pillow. Now she was looking at him full on, completely attentive. "What flight?"

He rolled his eyes, trying very hard not to laugh and give himself away. He'd thought this up in the middle of the night. "Like you forgot," he said.

She stared at him like he was crazy. "Oliver, what are you on about? I have nothing today. _Nothing_. I had every intention of lounging in my pajamas until obscene hours and watching really bad TV all day."

He gave her a shocked look. "Did I not tell you?"

She sat up, eyes narrowing. "Tell me what?"

He glance at the clock, which read 5:30. "We have a flight to catch in one hour."

"What?" she yelled wildly.

He groaned. "I swear I told you. That scientist?" he prompted.

She just stared.

"The one Emil wanted us to meet with?"

Still nothing.

"Chloe, I swear we talked about it just a couple of days ago. The guy couldn't come here so we agreed to go see him...well, I agreed, and then I told you about it."

"Oliver!" she groaned. "You told me nothing of the kind! Oh my god!" she yelled. "I have nothing packed! Nothing!" She grabbed a pillow from the bed and threw it at him.

He caught it and tossed it back at her, smirking. "Relax. Just get dressed and I'll have Bart bring your things over."

"What about you?" she demanded, rushing to her dressers to rummage for clothing.

"I have a packed bag on the plane."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you do," she griped.

He laughed and went to her closet for her. He pulled out a blue dress he particularly liked on her and tossed it at her. "Here," he said. "Bring that."

She looked at it, an eyebrow raising.

He shrugged. "We're meeting him at a pretty nice place almost as soon as we touch down, so we're going straight there. You can change on the plane."

She nodded, tossing it on the bed.

An hour later the two of them were pulling into the airport, Oliver's private jet ready to taxi the moment they boarded.

Chloe was mildly displeased, but stopping for coffee along the way to the airport had done a lot to lighten her mood.

"What's the name of this man?" she asked Oliver, taking a seat in the cabin.

"Erm..."

"Don't you know?" she looked at him admonishingly.

He shrugged. "It was something German. It will come back to me."

"_Honestly,_" she scoffed. "Well, I'm going to call Emil," she said, pulling out her cell.

"No!" he said a bit to loudly. She stared at him and he thought quickly. "Pilots are taking off. Cell phone will interfere with the radio tower."

Eyebrow arched in suspicion, Chloe put her cell phone away.

"Anyway," he added. "I just remembered. The guy's name is Zucker."

"And why does Emil want us to meet Herr Zucker?" Chloe asked, crossing her legs.

He sat down next to her. "Something about international relations. I don't know. I barely remember. The guys a genius or something and Emil wants us to get in his good books in case we ever need him."

"Relations, huh?" Chloe asked. "Fair enough." She looked around and Oliver felt his lips tugging into a smile. Chloe hated walking into anything without knowing all the details. She was clearly fighting the urge to get out her laptop and google the man. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Vienna."

"Really?" she looked interested.

He nodded.

"Wow."

"Why don't you get some sleep, Sidekick," he told her, hoping it would stop her from asking any more questions or from pulling out the computer. "You didn't exactly get your full eight hours last night." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and she laughed in spite of herself.

"Entirely your fault," she accused.

"Excuse me?" he asked incredulously. "Are you going to blame me for the fact that you were baking at two in the morning?"

She grinned at him, moving over on the seat so she could spread out comfily. "No. But that would only have lost me a little over an hour of sleep. I think it's safe to say I lost a lot more to you last night." Her eyes were already closed, but there was a smug expression on her face.

Oliver swallowed tightly, her meaning perfectly clear. He, gently gave her a little extra room to sleep. Somewhere in the back of his head he found himself whining that she hadn't fallen asleep in his arms like the night before, but he reminded himself that that had been a strange occurrence. Knowing Chloe, she was currently very uncertain about where the two of them stood with each other now. He'd thrown her off course the previous night.

Baby steps. Baby steps.

He wondered with a smirk how much she'd freak out when she found out what they were really doing.

Chloe woke hours later--she couldn't be sure how many--to a pair of hands gently massaging her thighs. Groggily she muttered something, but even she wasn't sure what it was. Then she felt Oliver's lips sucking on her throat and her eyes flew open as she gasped.

He chuckled, his warm breath dancing over her skin. "Well hello, Sleeping Beauty. I was wondering how far I'd be able to get before you woke up."

Chloe laid her head back again in appreciation and Oliver moved forward to plant a kiss on her lips, which she returned readily.

"You, Mr. Queen," she said, pulling away from his mouth, tugging his lower lip as she did, "are a very bad man."

"Only a little," he smirked, hands rising slightly.

She bit his lip. "Oh?" she asked.

"I'd say I'm about 99% good. You just happen to bring out that one percent."

"Mmmm," she moaned. "Nice to know I have that kind of effect on you."

He traced kisses along her jaw, "As much as I would love to continue this," he breathed, "and I would really--" he kissed her "really love to--" Chloe's hands threaded into his hair, "I woke you up--" another kiss, "because we're going to land, and you--" he bit her ear, "need to get dressed yet."

Chloe gained enough of her senses to determine that Oliver was already in nicer clothes than he'd boarded the plane in. She groaned. "I think it's a lot more than one percent," she whined.

He smirked and gave her another kiss before pushing away from her.

Chloe went to get the dress from the back of the cabin where Oliver had hung it for her, and she couldn't help the urge to glance over her shoulder at him. He was searching through his bag for something. It took her only a moment to slip on her dress, but she found herself wondering what was going on with him. Oliver was acting more and more strangely. First sticking around last night, then forgetting to tell her about a trip, now he was being weirdly...touchy-feely? Sweet? Was that the word for it? Possibly.

She turned to find him tying a necktie and she went over to straighten it for him. His eyes weighed on her heavily, but she chose to ignore it, turning around for him to zip her dress. He pressed a chaste kiss to the back of her shoulder when he was done. She turned to find him grinning about something.

"What are you in such a good mood for?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Uh huh."

"Can't I just be in happy because I'm in your company?" he asked, sitting her down again until the plane landed.

"You're acting so oddly." She was actually starting to wonder whether or not he were all right. Maybe he was behaving strangely because he was upset about something. She was starting to question everything that had happened the previous night. Maybe he was worried about something....Something had him seeking comfort. That was what it felt like.

He shrugged but didn't answer.

"Anything you want to tell me?" she persisted.

He frowned slightly. "Like what?"

"I don't know. Just want to make sure there isn't something going on I should know about."

He shook his head. "Well, unless you count the fact that I think you have this weird condition that causes you to bake at two in the morning," he teased.

She laughed, shoving him playfully as the plane touched down. "You are ridiculous."

"Again, not the person baking cake in the middle of the night."

"I was hungry!" Chloe argued.

"Yeah, I know," he told her, ushering her off the plane as soon as they were given the clear.

They bantered all the way to the restaurant, which was connected to a hotel called The Sacher. Oliver had a reserved table waiting for them. They sat down, Oliver pulling out her chair for her and Oliver said something in German to the waiter.

"Zwei Sachertorten, bitte."

"Nah gut. Etwas anderes?" the waiter asked.

"Nein danke."

"Etwas zu trinken?"

He looked thoughtful, then smiled slightly. "Zwei tassen Milch, bitte."

The waiter nodded. "Kein problem. Danke."

"Danke schoen."

"Bitte." The waiter left.

Chloe stared at him. "Just how many languages do you speak, anyway?" she asked, scanning the people around them with curiosity.

He chuckled. "A couple. But I only speak conversational German."

"Sounds pretty impressive to me." She glanced at her phone. "What time is he going to be here?" she asked.

"He's not."

She turned to look at him, frowning. "What?"

Oliver shrugged, smirking. "He's not coming."

"Why not?"

"Because I made him up?" Oliver suggested.

Chloe looked him up and down, trying to determine whether he'd completely lost it or not. "What on earth are we doing here?" she demanded.

At that moment the waiter returned, placing before them "zwei Sachertorten."

Chloe stared at the plate before her, shaking her head in disbelief. "Oh my God..."

Oliver looked at her smugly. "What was that?" he asked, tilting his ear to her as though he hadn't quite heard.

She threw her napkin at him. "You're insane!"

"Hey, did I promise you chocolate cake or did I promise you chocolate cake?" he asked, for yes, before them were two slices of incredibly rich, world renowned chocolate cake.

"I would have settled for cake from the diner down the street, Oliver!" she half-scolded, half laughed. "You are absurd." She stared at the cake.

"Yeah, but I promised you _really good_ chocolate cake. This is the best chocolate cake in the world. Try it."

Chloe ignored him. "You _lied_."

"A white lie. Try it."

"You dragged me out of bed painfully early and flew me across an ocean."

"It was only a little early. Try it."

"And you made me leave my clothes at home and had me convinced that we were in a huge rush."

"There are clothes waiting for you in the hotel room. Eat the cake, Chloe."

"I thought I'd lost my mind because you kept telling me I'd simply forgotten about a business trip to Europe!" she almost yelled.

Oliver rolled his eyes, stabbed a bite of the cake and shoved it in her mouth.

Chloe stopped, eyes widening. "Oh my--"

"Mmhmm."

"Oh my....that's...that's..._amazing!_" She stared at the cake on her plate.

"Uh huh. Now tell me I'm forgiven."

"You're forgiven."

"That's what I thought."

"You're insane and ridiculous and eccentric but you're forgiven."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, eyes dancing with laughter. "I fly you to Europe and I'm insane. You bake at two in the morning and you're just hungry," he joked.

"So when are we going back home?" Chloe asked a while later after the plate had been cleaned. "You said we had a hotel room."

At this point Oliver shifted uncomfortably, but his expression swiftly returned to one of confidence. "When the weekend is over. I booked the hotel for three days."

"You really are crazy."

"Why?" he asked, amused.

She shook her head. "Well what are we going to do here for three days?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Whatever we want?"

She laughed. "We can't just take a weekend off."

"Sure we can."

"No, we can't."

"Why not?"

"Because the team needs us."

"It's called a phone...or the fastest man alive if need be."

"But..." she struggled, "but _why_?"

He grinned easily. "I wanted a romantic weekend with my girlfriend."

Chloe stared at him, not sure she'd heard correctly.

"Oh, come off it Chloe. We both knew where this was heading whether we cared to admit it or not."

"Well even if--" Chloe shook herself. "Regardless, what makes you think I'll _let_ you kidnap me without telling me?"

"Because they have a spa here where you can actually get wrapped in chocolate."

Her mouth fell open.

"And because we both know you secretly think I am sexier than chocolate cake."

She said nothing.

"And because you _love_ me," he teased.

She threw her second napkin at him. "Arrogant!"

"Yeah," he smirked, "but you love it."

"You are so full of it!" she exclaimed.

"Full of _love_," he teased.

"I don't believe you!"

"Fine. We'll just go upstairs where you can not believe me some more," he joked.  "And you can continue to not believe me all weekend while we have hot sex and lots of chocolate cake," he teased.

"Pig!" she said, trying not to think about how _incredibly_ appealing that sounded.

"Not a pig. Just a guy."

"Same thing," she smirked.

"Not quite. A pig would have taken you to a diner and a motel."

She laughed, shaking her head. "What's the difference here, besides expense?"

"You get to be pampered and I get to tell people your my girlfriend when we go home," he said simply, signing the check.

She shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Keep me forever."

"That's a long time."

"I'll give you chocolate cake everyday."

"Maybe not such a long time."

"That's what I thought."


End file.
